Turuvekere - 8th Jan 2013

 Turuvekere

It took about 15 minutes for the rickety bus to reach Turuvekere from Nonavinekere. Turuvekere has two Hoysala style temples, according to many sources, Chenna Kesava and Sri Venu Gopala temple. I understood that

Channakeshava Temple Turuvekere

It took about 15 minutes for the rickety bus to reach Turuvekere from Nonavinekere. Turuvekere has two Hoysala style temples, according to many sources, Chenna Kesava and Sri Venu Gopala temple. I understood that they were close to each other and I was shown the way through a narrow lane running left to the road. I followed the path and passed a couple of larger and newer (comparatively) temples till I sighted a small but unmistakable Hoysala style temple. The old town of Arisikere is situated around these temples. Before I reached I passed another ‘Dravidian’ styled temple to my left, and a black shiny Nandi caught my eye and decided that I have to relax my strict adherence to visiting only Hoysala stype temples. I had read about the Gangadhareshwara temple built by Chola that predates the Hoysalas.

Ishwara Temple Turuvekere

The Channa Kesava temple was locked. The old village of Turuvekere lie very close to the temple boundary. I took few photographs and went to see if I can peep into the temple from the locked, vertically grilled gate when I found a small notice stuck to it, with a phone number. I called that number and someone answered that he would be in the temple in a few minutes.  As I waited outside watching the village move in slow motion in front of my eyes, realized the world that appears far away is in fact, only hours away.  There was leisure writ everywhere. People were found sitting on the steps of their homes reading Newspaper. Not the ‘just awoke’ types but clean, bathed and having seen good number of hours of wakeful time.

The priest came in a blazing yellow dhoti on a moped and opened the temple up. It is a modest temple with modest display of sculptures. It took only a short time to go over the temple. The same priest doubled up for the other one, which is much larger but is strewn with history in tablets bearing sculpture of indeterminate origin.

The Granite Stone- Turuvekere

I walked to the temple with Nandi, across the street from the after visiting the Ishwara temple. I had read about it as a Chola period temple that predated the Hoysala but was not prepared for it. The temple was locked and there were children ever enthusiastic to show me around. The entrance is through the side of the temple, an unusual feature. I would have missed it had it not been for the children. The Nandi is, I understand, is one of its kind and one of the oldest in India. The stone is indeed a very fine grain marble. Your reflection stares back at you. And the surprise does not stop there. There is a bell made of granite.  It was only a sculptural marvel till I conversed with a man sitting inside the temple reading a newspaper. There were story of Kannappa Nayanar told in stone, an essentially Tamil literature, according to my belief until I say it. Whoever says that India was made of balkanized kingdoms probably never stirred from armchair.

The children were a riot, full of enthusiasm, information and at the same time were happy to test what they had learnt in their English classes with anyone who will soon merge into anonymity.  As I walked around the temple, I met the man, I just mentioned earlier reading a newspaper. I found it a bit unorthodox, bringing dog into the temple for walk. He asked the usual who are you etc. and went on to tell that the bell was an ‘Araichi mani’.

 There are mentions in early Tamil literature of such bells installed in public places to draw the attention of the ruler to some urgent business of injustice, kind of forerunner of ‘habeas corpus’ petitions.  Kannagi, the icon of virtuousness of a unique Tamil variety a.k.a ‘Karpu’, rang the bell to draw the attention of the King who had killed her unfaithful husband mistaking him for a thief.

Then the man told that he is an agriculturalist as well as a reported. His son was in Bangalore working as a software Engineer and has lived in the US for some time. This time it was not the village that moved in slow motion but my unfounded romantic notion of village.